Tomorrow's Past
by GoddessofCongeniality
Summary: The Batfamily is still devastated by the death of Damian Wayne. In their time of need they comfort each other and care for each other. A lot of tears will be shed in their time of grieving. Sorry bad Summary I know, but still if you like to cry your eyes out or if you are still sad about Damian's death and can't stop reading all the sad stories about him then read this.
1. A Little Boy in the Graveyard

Chapter 1: A Little Boy in the Graveyard

I look out the large window that is in my study. I look out to the graveyard. I look at a small gravestone that I know has the words 'Martha Wayne and Thomas Wayne' engraved into the stone. I look at a grave that once held the body of Jason, but is now empty. I turn away at the thought of what that man has become. That I turned him into the way he is now. I look back and find the tall gravestone the now lays atop of my only true biological son.

I see a form out there with it. I step out of my study and shrug on a coat. On days like these in Gotham, even if it is in the summer, you need a coat. It may be eighty-nine degrees outside, but with the wind it makes it feel sixty degrees. I walk out and the form gets bigger and turns into a shape. A man. No a boy.

I see a little boy that is nine years old. Doing back flips in the backyard. Handstands on the lawn gnomes. Making Alfred laugh at his antics. I get closer and see my older son, Dick Grayson, on his knees in front of the grave. I reach out to put a hand on his shoulder, but I falter. When my hand finally reaches his shoulder he doesn't jump like some people would. He knew I was there even before I put my hand on him. He looks straight ahead. I see tears stain his cheeks.

This is the first time I've seen him here in a month. He said that the reason he hadn't been here lately was because he was on a case. A Nightwing case. I know that's a lie. He can't really handle stuff like this. He barely went to his parent's grave when they died. In fact I don't think he even visited his parent's grave at all when they died.

Damian...Damian had gotten to us all. When he died it was like a dagger to all of our hearts. Not even eleven years old and already dead. Dying a hero's death. I never wanted that for him. I never wanted for him to be Robin. I didn't want him to turn out like Dick or Tim or...or Jason or me. But that wasn't really my choice in the beginning. Talia bred and trained him to be like me so he could turn into Robin, and when I die turn into Batman.

I get on my knees as well. Dick reaches his hand out and traces the engravement on the tall pinnacle. The words that read 'Damian Wayne 2003-2013 A Boy Who Fought Evil Every Night and Won' was inscribed into that stone forever, and now inscribed into our minds and hearts. I reach out as well and touch the marble, only the best for my little boy, but I don't trace the words like Dick does. I can feel the slight movement of Dick underneath my hand. He is sobbing for is brother. I would be too, but I've cried all that I have cried for this little boy and I know if he was here right now he wouldn't want me to cry for him.

"Dick." I say.

"I'm not ready yet Bruce."

"Ok son take your time."

We stay there for a couple more minutes before he speaks up again.

"Damn it Damian. How could you do this to us you little demon? You weren't supposed to die first. You were supposed to pass us all. Not end up like Jason. You were supposed to kill him, not have him kill you. It wouldn't have mattered to me or Bruce if you would have just blown him to smithereens. You know I've let it by a time or two when it endangered our lives when we were Batman and Robin. It would have been ok as long as you came back home to us."

Dick reach forward making my hand slip off his shoulder. He hugged the Gravestone. He hugged his little brother.

"You were right Damian. We were the best. You were my favorite partner. Even when we crashed that wedding and you told me I had too much joy in me to be Batman."

I turn my head away from him, as I start to tear up.

"I was always there for you and you were always there for me. We had each other's back. You always had my back. I had your back too until the end. I didn't have your back that last time and you died, because of me. It's all my fault. If I would have been conscious-"

"Dick this is not your fault."

"Yes it is Bruce. If I would have been more careful I wouldn't have been knocked out, and me and Damian could have stopped the Heretic together. Instead I thought with my fists instead of my head, and because of that I cost Damian's life."

"Dick this wasn't your fault at all. This is mine. I chose my city over my son. If I could have a redo I would pick Damian every time over this hell hole. I wasn't fast enough. When I got out of that safe, I came as fast as I could. fast as i fe, i ether. I…I just wasn't … fast enough. I hate myself for that."

At that point I duck my head and start to cry. I couldn't help it. Just the thought that I could have saved him but I didn't sent me over the edge.

"Bruce it's alright. We are both to blame. But we shouldn't be mad at ourselves we should be mad at Talia and the Heretic. The only good thing that came out of this though is that they are both dead."

I look up at him and pull him into a hug. Except when I hug him I don't hug the man that took my place when I was 'dead'. Instead I hug a little boy who used to crawl into my bed when he had nightmares. I hug a little boy that used to always end up under my arm asleep when we were watching movies.

I pull away from him and hold him at arm's length and again I see a little boy. I see that same little boy with tears streaming down his face when his parents died.

I look into his eyes and not only do I see a little boy, but I also see myself in him. I see myself when I was eight years old in that alley crying for my parents. I see myself when Jason died.

I can't turn out like I did when Jason died though. I can't let Dick turn out like that either.

"Come on Dick lets go inside. Alfred is almost done with lunch, and you know how he hates us being late for any kind of 'family gatherings' when everyone's here." I said as I got up from my kneeling position. I hold out my hand and he takes it and I pull him up.

"I think the only reason he wants us early is because when we're early we're crankier and when we're crankier we fill up the swear jar really quickly." Dick said. We both laugh, because we both know it's true.

We get half way to then manor when Dick stops.

"Oh I almost forgot." Dick said pulling something out of his jacket. He runs back over to Damian's grave and placed a picture and a video game down. The picture was of Dick and Damian. Dick had his arm around Damian's shoulder trying to hug him and Damian had a disgusted look on his face. In the corner of the picture you can see Damian taking out a knife from his pocket. I assume from that picture that that was how Dick got that nasty cut on his forehead.

Dick runs back over to me and I smile at him.

"Me and Dami planned to play the new Swordwalkers game. I thought it was only fair I put that down on his grave instead of just flowers that he would've hated and that would have died anyways." Dick said as I take my hand from out of coat pocket and put it around his shoulder.

"Dick."

"Yes Bruce."

"I want to say this before it's too late. I love you. I never said that to any of you before, but now I am. I love you."

"Bruce I know. In fact we all knew. Even Damian and Jason knew. And you know what?"

" What?"

"We love you right back."

I smile and stare up at the window of Jason's room. In the window I see a man cleaning off his guns. He walks away from the window. I know he is going down stairs. Even Jason is scared of being late to lunch.


	2. Suicidal Thoughts Lead to Clearer Minds

Chapter 2: Suicidal Thoughts Lead to Clearer Minds

* * *

It had been a month since he had died. It had been two weeks since I stopped trying to visit him...see the real him up wherever he is... in heaven or hell. Whichever one I'm sure I would be where he is at.

I mean it wasn't the very first time I tried to kill myself. No the first time I ever tried to kill myself was after my parents died. Now I've tried again... and failed...and I'm sad.

The first time was a couple of days after his funeral. After Damian's funeral. I didn't really try to kill myself. I just went with what fate held for me and gave it a little push. The first time it was a simple mugger who had a gun. I just stood there and closed my eyes and waited. But the pop of the gun never came. It was Nightwing who stopped my first suicide attempt.

The second time it was fate again who tried to take me. My line had broken and I was falling. I was waiting for the hard crash into the ground. I was prepared to be guts and concrete. I was prepared for the pain that came with it. I was waiting to be just another smear on the ground that the people in Gotham just walked by not even caring that someone was dead right in front of them. It never happened though. Just before I hit the hard, cold concrete someone grabbed me. It was Nightwing.

The third time it was the Joker. I knew it was him doing all the crimes. I knew it was him who murdered all those people. I went to the old abandoned arcade that he was hiding at. I walked in 'unprepared' and as soon as the door closed I felt him behind me. Cloaked in the darkness as if mocking me. I could have stopped what came next, but frankly I didn't want to. Something that felt like a crowbar crashed into my back and I fell down hard. I turned around and looked up. There he was with that god awful shit eating grin plastered on his face. He was laughing and I didn't care. I saw the crowbar in his hands. The crowbar that had dried blood flaking off of it. No doubt it was the same crowbar that was used on Jason in some warehouse so long ago. It came down again on my ribs. On my arms. On my knees. It was painful but I didn't give a damn. It kept coming down with a crack and a tear and I didn't give a freaking damn. It was an hour later when I was about to slip into unconsciousness. An hour that was spent with a painful crowbar crashing and jabbing into my body. An hour spent of breaking bones and bloodiness. Bloodiness that now layered on the crowbar over Jason's blood. An hour later when the crowbar stopped. At first I thought he had just stopped because I wasn't really trying to struggle and didn't really care and he just wasn't having any more fun in his sick and twisted mind. But when I finally opened my eyes to see why the pain had stopped I saw a black and red blur. It was Nightwing.

It has been two weeks since that incident. I haven't seen Bruce around much since the funeral but when I last saw him after the Joker 'incident' I could tell he was disappointed in me.

It's been two weeks. I'm now sitting in my bedroom writing an email to Dick explaining what I'm doing and why. I don't know why I'm doing it. I just do it. I click the send button, though I know he can never get here in time. He is out with Barbara across town and was the only other Bat here in Gotham besides me and Barbara. He will only be here in time to see my limp body on the floor. I stand up and walk to my bed and grab the revolver. As I walked back to my chair in front of my laptop I stared at what would soon be my demise. If fate wouldn't see me dead then I would. At least I would be out of my misery. I took the bullets and loaded them into the chambers. One at a time. Slowly and carefully. I don't know why I filled every chamber up. I guess it's just me having an OCD moment. I stood up and walked to the middle of my room. I didn't want to get blood all over the chair. I didn't want Alfred to have to clean it up. I stood there for a little while. My hands shook as I stared at the gun praying that it would be over soon. I heard the front door open and slam shut. How could he be here? How was Dick here already? He was supposed to be gone for another hour. I hurried up and cocked the gun into place. I could hear him run up the stairs towards my room. I took the gun off safety and took a deep breath. I was about to pull the trigger when Dick busted down my bedroom door. I don't know why he busted down my door. The door was unlocked. I didn't want Dick or Alfred or Bruce to struggle opening the door to get to my dead body.

"Tim! What are you doing? Put the gun down." He said.

I never took the gun off my temple but I did take my finger off of the trigger.

"I'm tired Dick. I want the pain to stop." I told him.

"You don't stop the pain like this Tim. You get help. You cope. You find a friend. You do something wild. Something to get you mind off of the situation for a minute so you can go back later and look at it a different way. You don't stop it like this Tim. Just put the gun down."

"I... I'm tired of losing everyone though Dick. Everyone I care about and get to close to ends up dying. I mean look at my mom, my dad, Conner. Hell even Bruce died at one point. Damian died Dick. I was there. I could have stopped it from happening. But I couldn't. I didn't. I can't live with that. I can't live knowing that I could have saved him. That I could have saved them all. That I could have saved my little brother's life."

I tensed up and put my finger back on the trigger, but I still didn't pull it.

"You think I don't feel the same way Tim. I was there too. I had the chance to save him too. I was there. I tried but I couldn't. I didn't think and the Heretic threw me through a freaking glass case and I was unconscious. The next thing I knew I saw him holding a sword that was lodged into my baby brother's chest. You don't think that drives me insane thinking that I could have stopped that. That I could have saved him if only I hadn't been so headstrong and so confident. Tim we can't save everyone. We do what we can and save as many as we can. Don't you think Damian thought about this when he left the cave? Don't you think he knew that he had a high chance that he was going to die that day? He knew the reality of what would happen to him. Tim I felt the same way you feel right now. But Tim I got help. Bruce helped me. Alfred helped me. The Titans helped me. I was with Barbara earlier today because she was helping me get through this. Tim you don't want to do this. You say everyone you care about dies, well look around you. I'm here and I care about you. Alfred is here. Bruce is back and he is here. So is Conner. Your titans are here for you. Hell even Jason is here for you. Tim we can help you. We can help you. But only if you put the gun down."

I felt a stream of tears roll down my face but I still didn't take my finger off the trigger. However, I do relax more as he continues.

"Tim if this was Jason right now he would call you a selfish bastard and tackle you to the ground. Right now I'm kind of thinking the same thing if you are really going to try to kill yourself, but I'm here to help Tim not to call you a selfish bastard. Tim, if you die everything Bruce is doing now, attempting to kill people, going an extra mile to keep the bad guys off the street, he will be ten times worse. When you started your Robin crusade you did it to stop Bruce from crossing that line, to stop him from getting killed after Jason was gone. If you do this it would be for nothing. Tim, Alfred would never be the same. If he loses another 'grandson' I don't think he would make it through the heart break. I know I wouldn't. So Tim please just put the gun down."

I don't gently put the gun down, I drop it in the floor. I fall to the ground, but before my knees hit Dick catches me. I can see he is crying now too. I now understand that always hyperactive giddiness to him. He copes by doing that. Maybe I just need to find a way to cope like he said.

"I... I'm sorry Dick. I... I just... I just hurt. And... and I'm... I'm tired."

Right now I sound like a freaking babbling idiot but I don't care. I'm coping. I'm trying to feel better.

"Tim don't you ever suppress your feelings like that again. You come to me and we will talk. I'll even let you punch me if you need to. Just... just don't ever do this again. I need you baby bird. Bruce and Alfie needs you Timmy. We need each other."

Now I see that all those nights, weeks ago it was Dick that saved me from that mugger. Even though he was in his Nightwing persona. It was Dick that saved Tim from falling and becoming a smear on the pavement. Not Nightwing saving Red Robin. That it was Dick who stopped the murder of another Robin at a mad man's hands. Not Nightwing who was just trying to stop another criminal. No. All this time it was a big brother trying to finally save one of his little brothers. And he succeeded.


End file.
